


What They Never Talked About

by April_Valentine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Longing, M/M, PWP, Rickyl Writers Group, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_Valentine/pseuds/April_Valentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So they had touched, held each other, kissed, fucked. But they had never talked about it. Never made any statements. Or promises. Or vows."</p><p>In my previous fic "Right Here In This Moment" I mentioned that prior to arriving in Alexandria, Rick and Daryl had been having sex without discussing their feelings. This is one of those times.</p><p>I will be adding more chapters to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Other Reason?

The fight was over. The walkers were all down. Both of them were gasping, spent, drenched in sweat and gore. In the heat, flies buzzed, the smell permeated the small grove where the brief battle had taken place. 

Rick was on his knees, chest and head pounding, all his muscles burning in exhaustion. He glanced to his right.

There stood Daryl, crossbow already slung on his back, damp hair plastered around his face, chest heaving, arms glistening with sweat and streaked with dirt.

Their eyes met. Invisible cords pulled at Rick, drawn tight like the heavy string of Daryl’s bow. He reached out a hand.

Daryl was there, grasping it, pulling Rick to his feet. He didn’t meet Rick’s eyes, instead looking around. They were in a meadow, too exposed here.

He sighted a copse of trees to their left. Looking at Rick only long enough to nod his head in that direction, Daryl started off, Rick following close behind.

It felt like half a mile, but Rick knew it was only the exertion making him want to just fall down in the tall grass instead. Yet as they reached the tree-line, his heart started stuttering in his chest, adrenaline kicking back up. He was panting, but for a different reason.

Daryl grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around and pushed him up against the nearest tree. Their mouths crashed together, teeth and tongues colliding in a kiss that was almost too brutal to be called that. It was more a blast of hunger that made each of them try to devour the other. 

It almost always started like this. They didn’t talk about it, never. Daryl wasn’t one for words, especially if they had to do with feelings. That was okay with Rick. Words weren’t necessary in this world any more. They had fought side by side again. They had won and they were alive. What other reason did they need?

He turned the tables, wrenching them around so that Daryl’s back was to the tree, so that Rick could lean in and touch and taste. His mouth worked its was down Daryl’s stubbled jaw to his neck, biting down hard.

Daryl bucked against him, hips straining as they sought friction. Rick could feel how hard he was beneath his ragged pants. Their belts clanked together and Rick snaked an arm around Daryl’s waist, pulling him closer. 

That narrow waist intrigued Rick, just like Daryl’s wide shoulders did, like his smooth and generous ass and the hard flat planes of his chest. He let his fingers scrabble under the leather of Daryl’s vest and the ratty, threadbare cotton of his shirt, seeking skin. There – wet with sweat, sleek and sensitive, it quivered beneath Rick’s fingers, making him need to taste it.

Rick unbuckled his gun belt and let it fall to the grass, bending to pull up Daryl’s shirt so he could get his mouth on that bit of skin he wanted. He caressed it with his open mouth, sloppy, breathing on it, tongue darting out to make it wetter than it already was. 

Daryl groaned, the sound like a curse, but he let his hand fall onto Rick’s head, fingers deep in his curls, undoing his own belt with his free hand, then wasting no time as he also slid down his zipper. He nudged Rick over from his side to his groin, putting his own hand into his pants to bring out his cock for Rick.

Rick dropped the rest of the way down to his knees, hands and mouth filling with Daryl’s hardness. He’d never tasted anything like this, musk and heat and unwashed Daryl, as free as the animals that roamed the forest, desperate as a thief in the night.

He dreamed of this sometimes, the thick shaft stretching his lips and fucking his mouth, maybe because he loved the reality of it so much but never got to do it as often as he wished. He loved it here on his knees, Daryl’s head bent over him, his body curled downward as he let go of his dearly held inhibitions and let Rick pleasure him. Rick never felt used or debased by the position. Daryl never pushed him down, but Rick was a natural giver. If it felt good for Daryl this way, then he was happy to oblige. 

They didn’t finish this way often. Now was not going to be one of those times, Rick realized as Daryl’s knees gave way, his body seeking more than just Rick’s mouth.

Rick reached up to ease Daryl down with him to the ground, leaves their only mattress, finding Daryl’s lips and locking his own to them in a kiss that tried to both soothe and consume. While Daryl groaned into his mouth, Rick worked to get his own pants and boots the rest of the way off, then turned his attention to Daryl’s. Succeeding, he gripped handfuls of bare ass, squeezing and releasing. Daryl thrashed like a tiger in his arms. 

“Come on,” Rick muttered, pulling as he got them arranged the way he wanted. Daryl let himself be dragged on top, sighing to indicate he was good with the position. He fell into another long, deep kiss, his tongue mining Rick’s mouth like he’d found gold. Rick’s legs bowed open so that Daryl’s could slot between them and Rick knew the other man didn’t care how much he scraped up his knees in the dirt when they did this.

While Daryl’s hands braced either side of Rick’s face, fingers twirling constantly through the curly strands, Rick’s hands went lower, past the fabric of their shirts, down to where they were bare. As his fingers skimmed Daryl’s hips, they started to move, finding the practiced rhythm easily. Their cocks aligned effortlessly and all Rick had to do was to thrust up as Daryl rocked down to get friction against his own hardness, Daryl giving a grunt of affirmation with every stroke. 

Rick remembered there was a pocket in Daryl’s vest. If he could just… get to it… He fumbled at the leather, finally digging inside for what he hoped was still there from the last time. The little bottle of lube was probably almost empty but it was all they had here and now.

While Daryl continued to rut against him, Rick popped the tube open and slicked the fingers of his right hand. He dropped the bottle and reached for Daryl’s ass as he pressed his tongue into his partner’s mouth, probing deep. He bent his knees and gripped Daryl’s hips with his thighs.

It was a stretch but Rick’s arms were long enough. He delved between Daryl’s ass cheeks and found his center, pressing his finger in as Daryl thrust down against his groin. 

Daryl’s surprised whoop was lost in Rick’s mouth. He kept his tongue down Daryl’s throat and his finger up his ass, probing and pressing, looking for the spot that would make Daryl lose it. He reached the familiar bump in there and stroked and rubbed it, closing his eyes as Daryl’s body jerked and spasmed for him. He needed to close out the sight of the trees and sky while it happened, so he could imprint the sensations of Daryl coming into his soul.

Daryl stayed frozen over him, stiff and silent for long seconds while he rode out his orgasm, then he collapsed against Rick, nuzzling under Rick’s chin, body and mouth so soft and pliant Rick wished he could keep him this way forever. Then, uttering a little “huh” of surprise, Daryl seemed to notice that Rick was still hard. He roused himself enough to reach down between them, leaning far enough away to get a good grip.

He then shifted a little bit more so he could look down to watch as his hand jerked Rick off, tight and fast, the wetness he’d spilled onto Rick’s belly helping the process. Feeling himself slick with Daryl’s come while wrapped tight in his fingers made Rick dizzy with need. His legs fell open wide and his hips started working and Daryl did that little twist of his wrist at the top of his strokes, combined with his thumb swirling over Rick’s slit and then Rick’s body lost all control and he came in rivers over Daryl’s hand. 

For long moments, the only sound was their heavy breathing. _If two men came in the forest and there was nobody there to hear it_ , Rick thought, imagining these woods would survive far longer than he and Daryl would. And while the woods would remain, there would likely be no grave to commemorate their lives and they would be forgotten. Maybe that’s why Daryl refused to talk about this thing they did together every so often. It was just something they needed, something they did to affirm their survival, to fight off the soul-destroying loneliness in the dark of night. Nobody else knew they did it and neither of them knew what it meant. 

He looked downward. Daryl was still where he’d been, leaning on one arm and looking between their bodies. He let go of Rick’s cock, handling him gingerly, almost tenderly, long bangs obscuring his expression. Rick had learned fast that when he most wanted to say something, _anything_ , as their bodies cooled down and he felt like maybe there was something worth living for in this world after all, Daryl was more likely than not to pull away faster than usual, jerk his clothes back on and stomp off back towards camp without Rick. So he kept his mouth shut, keeping all thoughts of _that felt fantastic_ or _are you okay?_ or even _thank you_ to himself. Daryl would be as likely as not to put a bolt in his chest if he even so much as whispered how he felt about him when the afterglow made Rick euphoric and words like _love you_ hummed in his brain.

So he just watched Daryl quietly, catching his own breath there in the leaves by the tree. Daryl always seemed to draw into himself after they did this, unable to meet Rick’s eyes, his shoulders bent and his body language radiating “don’t touch” as they made their way back to camp. He usually took only seconds to recover before yanking his clothes into place and standing to find his crossbow, looking anywhere but at the other man in his proximity. This time though, Daryl hadn’t even moved yet.

As Rick watched, Daryl raised his hand, contemplating his fingers. Slowly, Daryl lifted them to his mouth, pausing only a second before licking and sucking each one clean of Rick’s semen. He was thorough, missing not a drop, even sort of slurping, eyes half closed in what really looked like satisfaction.

Rick had to let his head sag back against the ground at that sight, closing his eyes in case Daryl glanced toward him and caught him watching. He’d seen Daryl do that a hundred times, removing grease or crumbs from his hand before touching someone or shaking hands, but _damn_ that sight. Was Daryl merely cleaning off his hand or was he being so judicious in the way he licked off Rick’s come because he savored the taste, maybe even, savored Rick a little? Was he just imagining that Daryl enjoyed it? 

He had to be projecting. Daryl was nothing if not practical. He’d never seen the man use a napkin, even if one was available and while there were lots of way to get come off a hand out here, a shirt tail, your pants, the shop rag that habitually rode in Daryl’s back pocket, hell, even the leaves, it was such a typical Daryl gesture that Rick knew he was making more of it than he should.

At any rate, he couldn’t ask, couldn’t say a word, couldn’t even let on he’d witnessed the act. Too bad, too, because he secretly liked the taste of Daryl’s semen, never minded swallowing when he sucked him off and had licked Daryl off his own hand a time or two behind the other man’s back and part of him wanted to ask if he tasted okay, and share how he thought Daryl tasted and that he liked having something of other man inside him after they’d been together this way. But this was all about stress relief or taking care of adrenaline or keeping warm at night. It wasn’t about love or caring or a thing called a relationship. 

Rick lay there in the leaves with his eyes shut so long he thought Daryl might have thought he dozed off. He didn’t. Instead, visions of the two of them in a clean room with a wide bed and candles lighting the night with a warm glow had flickered behind his eyelids, dreams of them being together as a real couple that he knew were pure fantasy. There were no places like that any more, where a man could be with the one he loved in a safe place all their own, where they could take their time, strip away the worn out clothes that covered them, bare their bodies and all their secrets, where they didn’t have to fear walkers or their own pasts and where they could whisper the words that lay between them unsaid. Where maybe Daryl could accept his feelings and where Rick could shed the chains that made him lead their group instead of just being able to live everyday and enjoy someone he loved. 

They’d never find a place like that. Or if they did, it wouldn’t last. 

“Hey.” Daryl’s rough drawl broke the silence.

Rick felt his pants land on his naked lower body, then heard the thud of his boots as they were tossed to him as well. 

He opened his eyes, feigning sleepiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, shoving the curls back off his forehead. He deliberately didn’t look at Daryl, knowing the man was already dressed and ready to go.

He reached for his pants and put them on, slid his feet into his boots. Found his gun belt by the tree and stood up, fastening it around his hips. He waited, already lonely again, his arms empty, his body cold.

“Come on then,” Daryl said gruffly, already turning to head back.

Wearily, Rick followed.


	2. In the Dark of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Rick thought about how he and Daryl had sex "to affirm their survival, or to fight off the soul-destroying loneliness in the dark of night." This time it's Daryl's POV and the loneliness that brings them together.

_Can’t sleep. The night’s too quiet._

Not even walkers growls break the silence. Daryl fidgeted, trying to get comfortable. They had found an empty warehouse, cleared it of walkers that morning. There was plenty of machinery in the building, but nothing much that could be called comfortable. He was stretched out on the cement floor, using his vest as a pillow. It had been a long day and he was tired. Yet his mind was awake, unable to let his body rest. 

He’d always been a fighter. When the fighting stopped, he often didn’t know what to do with himself. Like tonight, when he was surrounded by people, yet felt so alone. He sometimes felt all the hurts that had ever been done to him, the pain of beatings that he’d thought forgotten would rise up, fresh and raw, scars throbbing. His mother, dead and vanished in fire. His father, taking his hatred out on him. Other kids who had bikes when he didn’t. Merle who wasn’t around enough and then was around too much.

He couldn’t stand it any more. He climbed to his feet, needing to move, to do… something. The ache inside him was so big, so incomprehensible. It wanted definition, yet as always, he refused it. He couldn’t name it, wouldn’t define it. It scared him too much. But it couldn’t be denied.

Even though he tried to pretend he was just aimlessly walking around, making sure they were all safe, he knew what he was doing. When he saw Rick, standing watch at the side door of the building, leaning against the wall, one leg cocked forward and bent at the knee, he couldn’t deny the way his pulse quickened. The way invisible threads pulled him toward the other man.

He was hurting, way down deep, the kind of hurt he ought to be used to but still couldn’t stand. It was more than pain. It was being apart, different. Disconnected. And he knew the only thing that would make it stop was standing right in front of him.

“Rick.” The word fell from his lips like a ghost walking over his grave. It wasn’t a question. He didn’t have the answer. But Rick knew.

Rick looked up, his eyes shadowed, face curious, alert. He hadn’t been expecting Daryl to come to him tonight. It had been awhile. But he didn’t look disinterested.

Daryl moved to stand in Rick’s space, not looking at him yet. He glanced outward, making sure they were alone, that no one, neither living nor dead was out there to stop them.

Rick made the first move. He reached out, sliding fingers through Daryl’s tangled hair. 

The touch was so intimate, Daryl shivered. He was lonely, to the depths of his soul, but Rick was touching him, taking him in. He closed the remaining distance between them, his limbs already throbbing with need. Arms reaching, he pulled Rick close, fitting their bodies together, using his strength to make his wishes known.

“Yeah,” Rick ground out. 

His shivering increased to a full body tremble as their mouths came together, open, hungry, demanding. Daryl welcomed Rick’s tongue in his mouth, relished the feel of being invaded, sought out, owned. It was the only thing that could banish his loneliness, fill up the empty place in his soul. 

His hands were ripping at Rick’s clothes, needing his bare skin under his fingers. Shirt off, pants open, Rick’s body felt blazing hot, so alive, so intense, and Daryl craved all of it. The hard planes of his chest, the sleek curve of his ass, his cock full and hard in Daryl’s mouth.

They’d fallen to the ground, bodies tangling, their touches rough, without tenderness. Yet Daryl’s heart fluttered as if Rick’s caresses were gentle, as if his lips were sweet against his own. He was on his back, Rick’s hands unbuckling his belt, scrabbling inside, jerking him hard. His hips canted up, needing the stimulation, a growl pulled from his throat. While Rick fisted his cock, Daryl pushed his own pants down and off, desperate for more. Rick was out, slick with Daryl’s saliva, hard and ready. 

“Come on,” Daryl urged roughly. “Let’s bang.”

Rick’s eyes met his, feral with anticipation. He shoved his jeans past his hips, then knelt between Daryl’s spread legs. 

“Where’s..?” He hesitated, nodding when Daryl pressed the tube into his hand. Opened it with his mouth, slicked his fingers, worked Daryl open impatiently.

Daryl wanted him in there, but he was beyond speech, driven by needs he couldn’t express. He pulled his own knees back, wincing at the unyielding concrete under his back, welcoming the body moving over him.

Rick gave him what he needed. He didn’t go slow, didn’t take his time. He slammed home in one exquisite thrust, wrenching a cry from Daryl that he smothered with a tongue down his throat. He fucked like he ran, hard and steady, filling Daryl so hot and fast he couldn’t think, couldn’t feel the pain inside any more.

Daryl wrapped his legs around Rick’s waist, his arms around the man’s shoulders. He couldn’t grasp him tight enough, couldn’t get him deep enough. He threw his head back, gasping as he felt Rick’s teeth on his neck, biting, sucking, marking. He wanted to plead, to promise, to speak a language he’d never learned and tell Rick all the ways he was making him whole, how being possessed made him feel at peace, that being made part of Rick filled the emptiness he’d lived with all his life.

Just as he thought he couldn’t take any more, Rick’s hand found him, giving him just the friction he needed to send him into oblivion. The last thing he sensed was Rick plunging in deep, coming inside him, then the physical and emotional overload was too much, and Daryl let it all go.

He came back to himself reluctantly, and he took in the dark night, the cold concrete, the heavy weight of Rick on top of him. Part of him shied away from the thought of his wanton behavior, embarrassed by his primal needs, the hunger that drove him to seek Rick out this way. It was good that the other man accepted it. He accepted Rick’s needs too. 

In a moment, Rick would lift his head, look down at him with those perceptive eyes of his, and he’d want to say something. Something Daryl couldn’t hear, couldn’t deal with. Whether it would be something casual or tender, Daryl couldn’t let those words be said. He wouldn’t in a million years know what to say back. It wasn’t casual to him but saying how much he needed Rick would make him more vulnerable than the sex did. There wasn’t much that scared him – not walkers, not starvation – but owning up to the fact that he was a lonely bastard that was in love with his best friend was something that terrified him. 

Rick stirred, mouth open and wet on Daryl’s neck, tongue soothing where he’d bitten him. He pushed up, damp curls stuck to his forehead, eyes studiously avoiding Daryl’s gaze. Daryl bit his lip, silently thanking Rick for that. He pulled out, the sound sloppy and loud in the stillness. Daryl’s legs trembled as he sat up, reaching for his pants. Rick got dressed quickly, yanking up the jeans that were still around his knees first, then pulling on his shirt. He used both hands to smooth back his hair and leaned once more the doorway, eyes alert for danger in the dark.

Daryl stood near for a moment, as always uncomfortable and unsure how to act afterwards. As if knowing his state, Rick reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, clasping it tight for just a moment. He turned and met Daryl’s eyes at last.

Daryl felt the heat in the other man’s eyes, the look filled with all the words he hadn’t said. It made Daryl tremble, the way Rick’s first touch, stroking through his hair, had. Rick’s eyes conveyed so much, warmed Daryl inside the way his touch did.

Daryl nodded, then turned and went back to where he’d made his bed. He could sleep now, he realized as he sank down onto his leather vest. He turned on his side, body still thrumming with completion, the emptiness abated if only for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to MermaidSheenaz for her input and support!


	3. Prison, First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this quite awhile ago and realized I'd never posted it. It also occurred to me that it fit with the theme of this series, Rick and Daryl reaching out to each other but not being able to talk about it. 
> 
> These aren't in chronological order, obviously. And the title says it all.

They’d spent the day shooting walkers, stabbing walkers, lugging bodies that felt heavier than they should from the cells, the courtyard, started them burning as the sun set. And now everyone was shambling back inside, exhaustion rolling off their worn out bodies. 

They gazed into the filthy cells with tired eyes, but nobody actually shuddered, even though there was blood and who knew what else all over the walls and mattresses. 

“I ain’t sleepin’ in no cage,” Daryl declared. “I’ll take the perch.” He busied himself with finding a couple of mattresses and dragging them to the spot he’d selected, up above the occupied cells, where the light was still peeking through the dirty windows.

He moved quickly, knowing the dark was coming in fast. He wanted to be settled before you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Outside, he could see enough by just the stars and moon, but in here, it was gonna be black as pitch.

He dropped down on his pallet, the dirty gray surface feeling like a fluffy damn cloud after only sleeping on the ground for so long. Below him, the sounds were stopping one by one as people starting drifting off. Underneath the quiet though, he could make out the sounds of growls deep down in the prison tombs. 

Tomorrow, they would go down there, see what they found and finish off as many as they could. The emptier they made this place, the safer they’d be. Wasn’t much, but it was better than abandoned houses with nothin’ but dog food in rusty cans. They would probably find at least some food in this place and that was their goal for the next day.

He heard something else too: footsteps in the hollow hallway, heeled boots makin’ noise as Rick patrolled again. Never satisfied, he’d kept the same thing up last night out in the yard after they’d cleared it. Rick had been driving himself all winter, the tension radiating off him as Daryl walked beside him through the long days. And as he’d slept beside him during those cold nights too. 

Rick was still married, if in name only. But Daryl felt the pain that went through Rick every time Lori had turned away from him in those first terrible weeks, and now he heard the earnest attempts she tried to make when she told him he was doing his best for the group, when she tried to apologize. 

“Don’t patronize me,” Rick had grated just last night, walking away from Lori’s latest shot at making it up with him. She wanted to talk – about the baby, Daryl supposed – but Rick would have none of it. Daryl understood. It was too little too late. The man could only take so much. He had the responsibility of all their lives on his shoulders. If his wife decided now that she was done being mad at him over Shane, he wasn’t ready to hear her apology. Daryl respected him for that.

Rick’s steps led him to the hallway below Daryl’s perch and he could see the man as he stood there, his expression grim. No cell for Rick either, he guessed. He wouldn’t be able to get out to ward off the danger if he was too far from it. 

Rick raised an arm, rubbing at his shoulder as if it was sore from his gun. They all had their aches and pains. Last night, Daryl had tended to Carol’s – ‘til she had to start her teasing again and he got embarrassed. He’d heard Glenn and Maggie too, him checking her body for scratches before they stretched out on their bed.

But nobody was checking Rick, or rubbing his tired back for him. Daryl watched as he finally slid down against the wall to sit, as if he planned on staying awake and on guard all tonight like he hadn’t just kept his eyes open for the last damn twenty-four hours already.

Rick rubbed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, and groaned. The sound tugged at Daryl, making his stomach clench. He’d done his best to keep his distance all these months, keeping his hands to himself, even though Rick’s presence, his eyes, his voice made Daryl’s hands want to do things they’d seldom done before, touch when he’d avoided touching all his life. 

He couldn’t take it, not tonight. He made up his mind quickly, before he could think better of it.

He got up from his bed, descending the stairs silently, moving to Rick like water flowing downstream.

Rick didn’t seem to even notice him ‘til he was right beside him. He looked up, his eyes hollow and red. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Daryl shook his head and sat cross-legged next to him. “’s all secure. You want me to take the watch?”

Rick just rubbed at his eyes, then let his head fall forward. Daryl didn’t miss the slight wince that accompanied the movement.

His hands were on Rick’s shoulders before he half realized what he was doing. He squeezed, feeling the clench and sudden relaxation under his fingers. Rick gave a stifled groan and turned so his back was more toward Daryl, giving him better access.

It was like his hands had been granted permission, that accommodating move of Rick’s. Daryl closed his eyes, remembering Merle’s rough instructions when he’d asked his brother for back rubs after long nights of drinking and whoring, teaching Daryl what worked for his own gratification, offering his seldom voiced praise when Daryl got the hang of it. Daryl put those lessons to good use now, not holding back like he’d done with Carol, knowing Rick wouldn’t interrupt with an ill-timed joke about screwing around.

Rick just leaned into Daryl’s touch, sighing with pleasure, eyes fluttering shut and mouth dropping open as his whole body loosened. Rick carried the weight of ten lives on his shoulders. Daryl smoothed his hands over them, feeling the hard planes of his shoulder blades, the knobs of his spine, the warm skin under the sweat-stained shirt. Daryl worked out knots of tension, eased the muscle soreness, silently giving what nobody else ventured to offer Rick. Daryl felt something opening up inside him, that knot in his stomach as he’d observed Rick from his perch growing loose now, the closeness feeding something Daryl hadn’t known he’d been hungry for.

Rick’s head fell back onto Daryl’s shoulder, eyes closed in bliss. Daryl’s eyes stung a little at the trust Rick showed him. He remembered how the man had been yelling his name out there in the courtyard full of walkers, how their eyes had met after they’d seen the prison from the train tracks. Rick relied on him and he would never know how much that meant to Daryl.

Rick gave a sudden, louder groan and shifted position, making to pull away. 

Daryl thought he’d gotten tired of the massage but when Rick adjusted the position of his legs, he realized he’d been wrong. It was something else. He put his hand over Rick’s shoulder, thumb lightly grazing the soft bare skin of his throat.

“Shit,” Rick said, muffling the words behind his hand. “Sorry.” But he leaned into the caress of Daryl’s thumb. “Been awhile,” he muttered. 

The idea that the touch of his hands had done this to Rick was amazing. Daryl felt powerful, privileged, emboldened.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he whispered, unable to keep his lips from brushing Rick’s earlobe. Rick had needed his back rubbed. He needed this too.

He shifted closer, letting the hand that had been at Rick’s shoulder glide down over his shirt to the waistband of his jeans. He’d managed to pop the top button when Rick’s hand wrapped itself around his wrist. 

“Daryl – you don’t – I’m – “ 

“Who’s gonna know?” Daryl could hardly believe the words that fell from his lips. “Who else’s gonna help you?”

Rick didn’t let go of his wrist. “’s not like I can’t take care of this myself.”

“You do everythin’ yourself,” Daryl whispered. “’Less you don’t want me to.” Maybe he was going too far, overstepping their friendship. Maybe rubbing Rick’s back had gotten him drunk on touch and he had lost his mind. But he wasn’t drunk. He was as stone cold sober as he’d ever been. He might be crazy but he couldn’t fight the desire to touch more of Rick than just his back. 

Rick’s grip on Daryl’s wrist changed, going from vice-like to tender in an instant. He didn’t look at Daryl when he spoke. “Oh, I want you to.” The heavy, sultry words lit a fire in Daryl’s chest, kindling feelings he’d pushed down for too long. He felt like he did out hunting, in command of the forest, capable and sure. It was the first time he’d ever felt that way about being with another person, like he knew what he was doing, like he was wanted, valued. 

He swallowed hard, mouth catching against Rick’s neck as he deftly undid his jeans and slid his zipper down, Rick’s hand still atop his own. Rick shifted his legs, parting them, using his free hand to help get his cock out and into Daryl’s grip. 

It fit in Daryl’s hand like it was made for him, so solid and hot, the flesh moist and ready, begging for his touch. Daryl slipped his hand down and back up experimentally, liking the sensation of steely hardness under tender skin. Rick trembled against him, grating out a “yes” as Daryl squeezed and stroked him again.

That they were within feet of their sleeping family didn’t even enter his mind. That any noise could wake someone and they could be seen didn’t matter. Daryl’s world narrowed down to the eager flesh in his fist, the drops of eagerness falling on his knuckles, the panting body up against him. There was only that and the throbbing of his own dick, trapped between them, confined in his pants and getting harder with every jerk of Rick’s hips.

Daryl bit down on Rick’s shoulder. _You only live once_ , he told his frantic brain, bringing his free hand around and snaking it in between their bodies to wrench his own pants open. Maybe Rick was too far gone to know. Daryl hoped he was; it seemed greedy to want more when all he’d intended to do was give his leader some relief.

But Rick was always paying attention to him. In one fluid movement, Rick turned around to face him, finding his leaking cock and folding it into his grip like they’d done this a thousand times before. With a will of its own, Daryl’s body came up onto his knees, rutting into Rick’s hand, his eyes taking in the sight of Rick’s cock being jerked in Daryl’s own.

Rick leaned toward him and Daryl’s head fell onto Rick’s shoulder. The position was awkward but neither sought to arrange themselves any better. They were too hot, too close. Rick was biting his lip to suppress a moan, Daryl grunted harshly into Rick’s shoulder. Almost… almost… _there._

They were shivering, shaking, coming, the battle won, pleasure cresting like Daryl had never felt before. So good, so _right._

And then there was nothing but cold walker bodies on the metaphorical ground around them, the pleasure fading all too quickly. Embarrassment threatened to overwhelm Daryl. He didn’t know what to do with his eyes, let alone his hands.

Rick cleared his throat. Daryl took that as a signal and let him go, fingers clinging as he removed them from the spent cock, imprinting the sensation on his mind so he’d never forget. He put some space between their bodies as Rick took back his own hand and they tucked themselves back into their pants in silence. 

Daryl made to stand up, his legs only a bit wobbly, needing now to make his escape, to head for the perch up above this place where he’d done things he’d only dreamed about with Rick. 

“Hey.” Rick had gotten to his knees, grabbed Daryl’s belt. 

He didn’t think he could look at the other man, but he could feel Rick’s eyes boring into him and he was compelled to man up and turn.

Rick was on his feet now and his eyes skittered away from Daryl’s, surprising him. He must be feeling awkward too, Daryl realized, maybe pissed off. But when Rick leaned close, putting his forehead against Daryl’s wordlessly, his fingers stroking the bare skin of Daryl’s waist where his shirt had pulled out of his pants, Daryl realized the awkwardness wasn’t anger.

Daryl reached down, his fingers twining with Rick’s as he accepted the touch. There was the tiniest pause as they kept their heads together and then as one they broke apart. Rick sagged back down to the floor. Daryl walked away and up the steps to his bed.

He hoped he would fall asleep right away because he sure didn’t know what to think about what had happened. Feelings, emotions – they weren’t things Daryl liked to ponder. They always confused him. He preferred action, whether it was killing walkers or hunting, or doing what his body had wanted to do with Rick. 

He hadn’t actually had much sex before this, not the kind of sex he wanted anyway. Merle had set him up with a hooker when he was sixteen and he’d managed to do it with her, but it hadn’t really felt right. Women weren’t what he wanted; Daryl knew that much about himself even before Merle had taken him to that prostitute. What felt right had been Rick’s cock in his hand, Rick’s body responding to his touch, his own body trembling and hard because of Rick.

But he knew he couldn’t talk about it. It was what it was. If Rick was okay about it, didn’t come and punch him in the morning or ask him to leave, Daryl figured that doing what they’d done would just stay between them, something good that happened but that they didn’t have to put into words. He couldn’t explain to himself what it was he felt for Rick. Feelings had been beaten out of him when he was a kid; they were the last thing he knew how to talk about now.

But as he drifted off to sleep, this first night in their new prison home, there was a small smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my muse, MermaidSheenaz for her assistance and encouragement on this.

**Author's Note:**

> For the Rickyl Writers Group. Glad I had this scene ready to go for the RWG Mini Challenge.


End file.
